Page 67 of Artemysia

“I sear her lopsided grin into my mind.” - Riev

I ’m in a windowless room, lying on my back on a hard table. White marble walls, studded with jewels. I must still be in the Artemysian castle.

At least I saved Delphine from drowning. That’s all that matters. If I’ve done one thing right in my life, it was that I got her back safely to Artemysia.

Elkshit. Who am I kidding? I didn’t save her. She got us back safely.

I focus my thoughts on her sweet face, recalling how it looked as she fell asleep in my arms the other night. When she told me she was mine.

When was that?

A day ago? Last week?

I force myself to remember how happy, how untroubled she looked.

I sear her lopsided grin into my mind.

Because when I don’t picture her, I crave flesh.

Human and Syf.

I’m so thirsty for blood. When water is poured into my mouth, it tastes like oil, and I retch and gag. I need the raw tang of a fresh kill.

This new sensation should terrify me, but I am too hungry to care. The hunger consumes me like wildfire, burning my insides in a way only blood can quench.

The Syf guards move cautiously around me. I’m bound, tied to the table. Even though I don’t think I struggle, I sometimes wake to find new restraints on me, and my bindings have cut into my skin.

“Prince Riev Aeros Wolfgang,” my uncle’s voice addresses me as my eyes snap open.

Foss visits often. He stays for a long while each time, telling me stories of how he and my father, as children, would drape banners over their horses and pretend they were riding Lindwyrm.

How he looked up to his older brother, who was the best swordsman in Artemysia, but could also sing like a songbird.

He recalls how my father snuck out of the woods at night to meet my mother by the river. He’d built a small boat to take her sailing, and talked nonstop about her storm-gray eyes and bright smile upon returning from their secret dates.

Foss tells me I must fight what’s happening, that I must get well, because my rule has been accepted among the Artemysians due to my control of a Lindwyrm.

I am a legitimate Syf heir.

But it wasn’t me at all. It was all Delphine , I try to say to my uncle, but I’m shocked to hear snarls escape my lips instead. My uncle doesn’t flinch, though he pales as my body writhes uncontrollably and I try to snap at him with fangs that dig into the insides of my lips.

I taste warm blood, and it’s utterly delicious.